


touch me, you're electric

by insomniabug



Series: Smol & Tol drabbles [10]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniabug/pseuds/insomniabug
Summary: the one where our spies go undercover in a pool





	touch me, you're electric

**Author's Note:**

> As it usually happens with me, I see a random picture of a faceless couple and I imagine a fic. This was born out of a picture I saw on my [tumblr](http://insomniabug.tumblr.com/post/176459047242)

“No one is going to buy this if you’re not touching me.” She settles on top of him, her right thigh notched between his legs. She doesn’t hide her smirk when she notices his subtle shift so she’s less in contact with a certain sensitive area. 

“I am touching you.” His eyes flash a warning before brushing her wet hair behind her ear.

She’s noticed that he’s so much more comfortable when espionage comes in shades of hiding in the shadows. Not in broad daylight, floating in a pool and pretending to be a honeymooning couple…again. Napoleon always chooses not to be her paramour, and she can’t help but wonder if she should be offended or grateful. He’s an attractive man, but there is something about Napoleon that unsettles her. She thinks it has to do with his graceful ease with lies. One can never really tell what's going on behind that charismatic grin of his.

Whereas despite his training, Illya’s thoughts have always shown on his face. Anger, annoyance...affection, all of it easily deciphered. The tension between them is starting to get harder and harder to ignore, building up like water behind a dam. She's almost curious to see what would happen should it break.

“Illya, shoulders are not sexy.” Gaby sees a quick gleam in his eyes, hinting at the playful nature he’s always so quick to suppress during a mission. 

“Sweetheart,” Illya says sickeningly sweet, “you are naked and straddling my leg. I do not think peering eyes would doubt our devotion to each other.” Her stomach traitorously leaps into her throat when he begins lazily drawing circles across her shoulder blades, but never moving any lower. Every time they do this, she’s noticed that he never takes liberties that most men would take in their line of work. 

“I am not naked. This is the trend in all those fashion magazines you like to throw at me.” She teases, knowing it was a sore spot for him. While Napoleon and Illya arguing over fashion like bickering old ladies was a necessary evil she's learned to live with, Gaby had put her foot down when it came to choosing swimwear. They had both tried fitting her into outdated and modest pieces, and she was done with living behind the Iron Curtain. She had enjoyed the image of a red-faced Illya and an uncharacteristically silent Napoleon when she walked out of that dressing room wearing this cream colored bikini.

“Two tiny scraps of cloth held together by string is not fashion. Is lingerie.” His index finger glides beneath the strap of her top for emphasis and she begins to question her previous statement about the sexiness of shoulders. A dangerous picture flits quickly into her mind; Illya sliding the strap off her shoulder, Illya pressing his soft lips against her sun-kissed skin...Illya's chest against her naked breasts.

Feeling like she's being watched, Gaby looks up. She catches Napoleon’s eye from across the pool where he is brazenly flirting with their current mark, the wife of a drug lord. His gaze follows the line of her arm to the hand combing through Illya’s hair. She hadn’t realized she'd been doing that, and she somehow senses that Napoleon knows what she had just been imagining. Gaby feels her cheeks warm up, grateful that her reddening face can be brushed off as a sunburn.

A sudden loud shriek of laughter causes Illya to tense beneath her…including the thigh she is currently straddling. The hard muscle presses up between her legs in a way that causes her to inhale sharply. Thankfully, Illya doesn’t seem to notice and his body immediately relaxes when he realizes there is no threat.

“How much longer?” He questions, squinting up at her. Gaby tries not to let his eagerness to be done offend her. She looks up at Napoleon, sees the hungry gleam in his mark’s eyes. 

“I give it less than five minutes. That woman looks ready to devour Solo on the spot.” Illya makes a sound almost like laughter, but it was too quick and too quiet for her to be sure. 

Between the sun above, the cool water around them, and his lean body beneath her, Gaby can feel her eyes drifting shut. It had been a long night of surveillance and she hadn't gotten enough sleep. This is the first time in a while she's had to just be still and her fatigue was starting to catch up with her.

"Do not worry. I will keep watch." Illya says gently, tenderness lacing through his words. It's that unabashed care that gets her to comply, so she closes her eyes, trusting Illya to keep watch for her. 

(And if she feels a soft brush of his lips against her chin, she tells herself its part of their cover.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Electric" by Alina Baraz (feat. Khalid.)


End file.
